


Hand in Hand

by sihaya13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sihaya13/pseuds/sihaya13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long time it’s been, since you found him attractive and he found you beautiful. You still love his rugged weakness while he still loves your strong vulnerability. It has not been easy for either of you, yet here you stand, stronger than ever and ready to take on the world. </p><p>Hand in hand . . . we'll take on the world</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand in Hand

HAND IN HAND

(ready to take on the world) 

 

 

III

 

You near the edge of the cliff top, shivering with anticipation and fear. You sit and watch the moon for some time, its light shining down on you. Despite all the moon can bring, all you’ve seen it do to a person, you can’t help but find it a beautiful sight, calming, regal and timeless. Its craterous eyes beam down from the skies, the grinning mouth encouraging you.

You draw a deep breath and wander to the lone figure sitting on the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling dangerously over the edge. For a brief second, you stop and watch the wind’s attack on the boy’s hair, ripping it hither and thither about his skull. You’ve always loved the colour of his hair, mousey yet strong in shade and slightly longer than generally accepted, adding a certain ruggedness to his appearance despite his drawn and sickly features.

“Hello,” you speak, shoving your hands in your pockets and scuffing at the ground with the side of your left shoe.

“Hi,” returns the boy, with nervousness in his tone and traces of a smile about his mouth. “I’m really glad you came.”

“So am I. It’s great to see you Remus. It seems we’ve both been too busy, rushing around like headless chickens with the war and the Order.”

“Yes, headless chickens describes it quite well. I’m often surprised my head is still attached.”

“Aren’t we all?” you finally break out a grin. Gosh, you have missed this man terribly.

“I’ve missed you,” Remus says with sadness.

“I’m sorry. I’ve missed you too, but I’ve been busy and I’ve been thinking. I’ve been doing an awful lot of thinking, actually.”

“I’m surprised your head hasn’t imploded. All that thinking? Sirius Black? I wasn’t aware it was possible for the two words to be strung together in a coherent sentence,” Remus mocks.

“I’m not generally renowned for my thinking,” you reply with a lascivious grin.

“You have garnered quite the reputation haven’t you? I still haven’t figured out how, considering the little you’ve done to begin it.”

“But I have done an awful lot of hard work to encourage it.”

“You know, I’ve wondered before, do you think if I told people of the truth of your reputation it would ruin it or increase it?”

“Well, what exactly would you tell them?”

“Well for one thing, you are awfully talented.”

You visibly preen at the statement, “Why, thank you Remus, you’re too kind.”

“But then again, the fact that I’m aware of that would disappoint the greater female population of Britain.”

“It would indeed,” you pretend to look upset at the notion. “It is quite the pickle, isn’t it?”

Remus laughs at your childishness and you ruffle his hair fondly.

“Let’s get away from this cliff, shall we?” you propose.

“Nervous?”

“Fearful for your safety,” you reply.

“Come on then, you baby,” Remus grins, clambering to his feet.

You wander together along the paths atop the cliff, winding their way slowly down until you can feel the soft sand beneath your feet. You love the sensation of sand between your toes, especially sand such as this which is slightly moist and has a certain crunchy feel to it. The pair of you swap memories on the beach, the sand as your witness and the gathering storm your audience.

 

 

I

 

The first time you realised the attraction, the force of it sent shivers down your spine, as it still does. You remember his sandy hair swishing from side to side in front of your eyes as you clambered through the tunnel to Hogsmeade. To your shock, your eyes took it upon themselves to look upon Remus’ posterior, watching his buttocks flex as he took each step and you recall thinking that his bottom is very fine indeed, much nicer to look at than any other in Hogwarts. That day you felt awkward and clumsy as you stumbled over your words and tripped many times, falling on to Remus and having to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. He said nice things and you fell deeper under his spell, his charming kindness and decidedly delicious wolfish tendencies drawing you in.

He shares his story of watching you cry. He watches you, sitting on your bed fighting the tears running down your cheeks, to proud to admit your hurt, and he thinks you beautiful. He reaches out and touches your cheek, wiping away a tear and he smiles and tells you it will all be better someday. He will make it so.

***

One full moon, some time in the August of your sixth year, you are left to care for Remus alone while James and Peter both serve a detention. You tell them it is fine, you are big enough to look after him and you are, but really you just want to spend time with him without worrying about the prying eyes of your friends. It isn’t a pleasant experience, watching Remus transform; you nibble at your claws in worry while screams rip through the shack as his bones rearrange themselves. Once he is a wolf in full, standing on all fours and shaking his head in slight bewilderment, you walk over to him and nibble him affectionately on the shoulder. He licks your face in return and with a howl and a bark the pair of you set off roaming the night. You enjoy the sensation of being a dog for the night, with nary a worry in the world, just the simple canine desire to defend your friend and play. You and he have multitudes of fun running through the forest, chasing the odd bird or small animal and kicking up sticks. You guide him away from trouble and when the time comes you lead him back to the shack, in time to transform once more. You remain in your animagus state until he is human, reverting back as soon as his fur and teeth are no longer present.

It is the first transformation you have seen since your discovery on the way to Hogsmeade. You have spent three weeks thinking of nought but Remus and now here he is, naked as the day he was born, standing right in front of you. You feel the desperate desire of your eyes to pop out and scuttle across the room for a closer look and your heartbeat quickening with fear and desire. You manage to quell your eye’s attempt to escape their sockets and keep your heart at a manageable rate as you walk over to an old, battered chest of draws to retrieve Remus’ clothes and hopefully appease your agony. You hand them over to him and smile, keeping your eyes determinedly locked on his hair. As he shuffles over to the bed to place his top while he replaces his bottoms, you can’t help but stare. Your eyes feel appeased that they are allowed this but your mind, however, appears to have stopped functioning.

He is on the lean side, with clothes on you recall he appears rather scraggly. Without such coverings, you see his body has a light covering of muscle. His back is smooth and curved, a perfect specimen of a human back in your opinion. You had found his bottom perfect with clothes on, without you find it exquisite. You simply can’t tear your eyes away. Your heart is torn when the pants go on, unsure whether to be relieved from the pain of the beauty and the complicated nature of finding beauty in such a place or whether to be disappointed to no longer have such loveliness to gaze upon. He turns around and you see his stomach is toned, the muscles there small but distinctly carved onto his person. With his shirt now on, you look up at his eyes and watch them sparkling. They have such depth to them, a vortex of swirling deep blues and emotions, too many to name. You have seen Remus before, clothed and otherwise, many times, but you had never seen this. You feel you have been missing something, something so fundamental and you feel blind. You fail to see how this could be, how you could not have seen what now appears before you.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” Remus asks you worriedly.

“No, of course not. It was a good time, a calm night.”

“Oh thank goodness. I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if I hurt you. I feel fabulous though, I haven’t scratched myself at all, just a few minor cuts I think.”

“I think we were throwing sticks at each other at one stage, that’s probably it.”

“Probably,” he laughs. “It’s times like this where I wish I could remember it too, other times though,” he shudders, “They make me thankful that I can’t.”

“Don’t you worry, we’ll have enough fun in human form to make up for it,” you smile.

He laughs again, a tinkling sound, “Sounds like a date.”

A date. Gosh, how your heart leaps at those words. You open your mouth but refrain from speaking, knowing that whatever mess of words that would have erupted from your lips would be a disaster.

“Sirius?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t suppose you could check the back of my neck for me could you? There’s something there that feels a bit wet.”

“Sure,” you reply, wandering over to him. You lift up his hair and glance, wincing as you notice blood. “Yeah, there is a wound here. Must have thrown one of those sticks a bit too hard,” you attempt to joke. In truth, the sight of Remus bleeding makes you sick to your stomach. You grab a cloth from the chest of drawers and dab at the blood gently.

“That ought to about do it,” you say.

“Thanks. The healer will fix up the rest.”

“No problems.”

You let your hand linger in his hair before taking it away, curling a few locks absentmindedly in your fingers. As you realise what you are doing and begin to take your hand away Remus catches you about the wrist in a firm hold. No words are spoken, none need to be and nor are there any fit for the occasion. You look into his eyes as he looks into yours, soul searching. You both have fear in your eyes; fear of the other’s reaction and fear of the unknown yet both of you can see desire lurking there amidst the depth of emotions. He lifts his free hand and brings it to your face, tracing an unintelligible pattern about it, soft as a feather. You barely breathe, too scared it will ruin the moment. You lean forward, as does he, and you feel your lips touch. It is brief, fleeting, almost tickling. The both of you pull back sharply, unsure of the situation. A giggle gurgles its way past your lips making you sound like a thirteen year old girl. Remus follows suit. Soon the giggles morph into a deep, hearty laughter as you each realise your foolishness. Remus’ hand slips from where it had been holding you around the wrist and his fingers nest amongst yours, holding your hand. You look at each other and smile.

“You should go, before the healer gets here.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you at breakfast, right?”

“Right,” he smiles.

“Bye,” you grin, unable to contain your joy. You sneak carefully away and once in the clear you found it difficult to restrain your legs from skipping their way up to the castle.

 

***

Despite the sheer size of Hogwarts, you find it difficult to spend any time with Remus alone. There is the odd fleeting moment of course, five minutes in the library while all else is silent or a quick walk through the halls to a lesson but nothing substantial. You wish to talk with him, even just be with him, without a crowd watching you in the background.

You find your chance while a quidditch match is on. You, for once, have found yourself having to do homework and for another first have decided to do it. Your decision may have been fuelled by the knowledge that Remus was staying in the common room to do the same but you do feel you should achieve some work nonetheless. James is playing, of course, fighting for a chance against the strong Ravenclaw team. Peter has followed, his love of quidditch and adoration of James both overruling the need to complete homework. You would not be surprised if he had already done it in any case as for some inexplicable reason which you find unfathomable he enjoys doing homework.

In particular, it is an essay for Transfiguration which has you stuck and frustrated. Remus, you know, has already finished his and moved on to his astronomy homework. You pull your quill out, refraining from dipping it in any ink while you run the essay through your head, mapping out a rough idea.

“Hey Sirius,” you hear a voice say and look up.

“Hey,” you reply.

“I’m surprised you’re not at the match.”

“Why would I be there when I could be here studying with you?”

“Well that’s settled then. I can’t think of anything better than spending time with me. Apart from spending time with you, and I’m sure after seventeen years of life you don’t find your own company all that thrilling.”

His openness surprises you. You were scared he might have had second thoughts and danced around the topic cleverly as he does when avoiding things. You are relieved he has not and follow suit. If Remus, with all his shyness, can be open about something so delicate then so too can you.

“No, not too thrilling at all I’m afraid, but I do rather enjoy your company.”

“What about the homework?”

“Not so much,” you grin.

It doesn’t take long before you move. You aren’t sure how you moved exactly, as you don’t recall standing, but before you know it you’ve raced the few strides between you and accidentally toppled Remus and yourself to the ground. This time, there are no hesitations, your mouth meets his and his mouth meets yours and the world explodes.

At last, when you surface, you speak, “Studying huh? Shall we?”

Remus simply smiles and pulls your face back down to his.

 

 

II

As often as you can, the pair of you sneak off to a quiet corner to spend some time. You fear Peter and Lily might have their suspicions but you are simply too happy to care. You don’t wish to broadcast the news but if they find out, you don’t believe you’ll mind an awful lot. They’re friends, they’ll understand.

You often stop to think how something so wonderful could have occurred to you. The contrast between the joy of being with Remus and the horrors of war surrounding you make each moment you spend with him all the more special, all the more treasured. With shock each morning all the students reach for the Daily Prophet and scan through the list of the dead, hoping against hope no friends or family appear upon it. Even when there isn’t, the experience is still horrific, yet you at least have Remus’ hand to hold under the table while you read through the list together.

With the end of year exams rushing up on you and the stress of the war, both you and Remus are understandably strained. You bicker occasionally, nothing serious but the added weight of that on top of the rest shows its toll. Whenever you snap at each other, after it is over you see the shrewd eyes of Peter or the cunning eyes of Lily looking you over. You are thankful that in the least, James is so carefree a person that he is often oblivious to that which surrounds him. It is times like this where you begin to agree with Lily’s claim that he is air-headed. You know everyone else has noticed something yet he remains completely in the dark. However, it is helpful at the moment that you do not have to explain to him as it would be difficult, more so to explain why you haven’t yet told him than to tell of the relationship itself.

Exams pass in a blur, they are gone before you can blink. Soon it is time to go home for another year, time to go back to hell. You have contemplated running away from home many times and keep it as an option in your mind so that then, at least, you do not feel caged for you have the chance to run for freedom. On the train ride home, you and Remus bicker once more. You are saddened to leave him in this manner when the train pulls to a halt and it is strange to find that you are dreading the return trip home more than ever. You get one last look at his gorgeous blue eyes and adorable hair floating in the light breeze before he is gone, and then so are you.

 

 

IV

You sit together on the beach a long time, talking and kissing and simply gazing at each other with adoration. Beneath the gathering storm you flourish, drawing power from the strong winds and feeling a shiver of excitement tingle its way up your spine with each lightning strike and each thunder rumble. You stand together on the beach and begin to run around, embracing your inner child. You laugh and run and fly across the beach, flying with the wind and the water. You build a sandcastle on the beach, large and magnificent with myriad turrets and an assortment of flags swaying in the breeze from their kingly posts.

You bury Remus’ feet in the sand and he buries yours. There you sit, wiggling your toes in the sand and watching small cracks run in the pile atop your feet. Remus is digging a hole next to him, scooping the sand out from the ground and placing it at your feet. You laugh and throw handfuls of it back at him; hindering his process and then watch the creases of frustration line his mouth, creases which give him an even more adorable appearance than usual. Finally you break your feet free and simply leap on top of him. He doesn’t seem to mind you ruining all his hard work when you lower his mouth to his and kiss amongst the swirling sands before the tumultuous ocean and angry skies.

You roll off him and together you stand, your hands clasped firmly together. Along the beach you walk and skip and run, kicking up sand and pretending you can fly. As the lightning strikes and the thunder booms and the rain begins to pelt like never before, you and Remus walk through the thick of it, hand in hand and ready to take on the world.


End file.
